


Person of Interest

by MikeWritesThings



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Games, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Light Angst, M/M, Making Out, Octane | Octavio Silva Has ADHD, Secret Identity, Secret Relationship, Trans Octane | Octavio Silva
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:20:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24148852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MikeWritesThings/pseuds/MikeWritesThings
Summary: Crypto was different. Crypto wasexciting; a mysterious and hot hacker guy who was probably on the run from the authorities?Well, he had definitely piqued Octavio's interest.
Relationships: Crypto | Park Tae Joon/Octane | Octavio Silva
Comments: 12
Kudos: 119





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hewwo! new fic bc uhm....why not?
> 
> tws:  
> none i think, except for some mild implied sexual content
> 
> also octane definitely tries his best to be as annoying as possible

Octavio had never had a boyfriend who could keep his interest for long. He hadn’t had many—maybe three total, four if you wanted to count Jay Haasan and the two(2) days they had dated back in senior year before Octavio found out that Haasan was planning on becoming a dentist, which, _boring._

All of the kids he had known growing up were from rich families, molded into the image of their business-people parents without an ounce of personality to make up for it; or maybe they _did_ have personality, but it was buried beneath the layers of grooming and the stifling expectations set upon them.

That was why he and Ajay had become friends in the first place. They were both different from their parents, and she was interesting enough that he _still_ considered her his friend fifteen years later, even though most of his other “friends” had been discarded long ago.

By default, all of the other competitors in the Apex games were also interesting to Octavio. You had to have _some_ kind of fucked up personality or backstory to want to compete in a bloodsport (unless you were, of course, Natalie Paquette), but there were a particular few people he had his sights set on. First and foremost:

  1. Wraith, because, what the fuck. She could time travel? Or hop dimensions? Or something? And that was fucking awesome? He wanted to get his hands on her void technology, but she was really good at hiding it, and also knowing whenever he was trying to swipe it. She was fun, and he wanted to know more about her, but the thing was she didn’t know jack shit about herself, so they were both stuck on the same problem.
  2. Bloodhound. Nobody knew what they looked like, what their motives were, where they were from, what they did during the off-season...literally a huge mystery to unravel. Octavio knew they thought of him like one thinks of a particularly overbearing dog, so he hadn’t managed to get a whole lot out of them yet. Besides, they seemed more interested in Elliott, which, _fine, I guess._
  3. Last, but not least, the new guy Crypto. He was one mystery wrapped in another, but unlike Bloodhound, seemed more attainable, so he held Octavio’s interest more knowing that his efforts might not be so fruitless as they were with the hunter. He was definitely hiding something, and was always on that computer of his, so he had to be planning something too—and Octavio would find out what it was.



So the new guy took up all of his attention, and when that interest didn’t fade away even after their first game together, he knew it was time to pursue him relentlessly until he cracked him open like an egg.

Hopefully, he would remain interesting to Octavio even after he got him to open up.

* * *

**1.) games**

Octavio had no idea what Crypto’s interests were. Hell, he didn’t even know his real fucking name, let alone if he had any hobbies or not. Their rooms on the dropship were right next to each other, but they only stayed on it during the season, and it wasn’t like they had much downtime then.

Octavio himself had many interests, whenever they...interested him. Which others didn’t seem to understand how he could at one moment be _so_ interested in photography and the next selling all his cameras online because _‘that’s boring now.’_ It would confuse them even further when he bought more cameras three months later, because it was interesting again. It was a ruthless cycle, with only a couple of interests staying consistent throughout the years, one of those interests being video games.

He liked all games that were fast-paced; shooters, racers, and the occasional restaurant simulator if it was stressful enough. His current favorite game was a FPS that had been released recently, so there was still a lot of hype surrounding it. He had managed to get an access key (not by watching streams like you were supposed to—he didn’t have the patience. Nah, being rich had its benefits) and was currently testing it out for the first time, deciding to give it his undivided attention on his computer.

He selected a character—a spunky catlike assassin whose main selling point was being the fastest character in the game—and reached for his phone, because the matchmaking process lasted a full minute, which was unjustifiably slow. 

His most recent posts had over fifty-thousand likes, which, hah, take that Elliott...his favorite content creators hadn’t updated in so long that he was considering unfollowing them...oh, someone drew fanart of him again, that was nice...

Something suddenly caught his attention; he had leaned a little to the side so he could look at his phone while it was on its charger, and in doing so caught a glimpse of a familiar game running on the computer in the room next to his.

“Hey,” Octavio said, and Crypto’s shoulders hunched a little, but he smoothly blocked Octavio’s view of the screen by scooting his chair over. “I saw that! C’mon, you play Overwatch too?”

“No,” Crypto said flatly. He proceeded to pick Zenyatta on his screen, which Octavio saw because he had craned his neck to catch another glimpse of his monitor. “Leave me alone.”

Octavio’s game started and he returned his attention to it, clicking away and shooting blindly. The gun mechanics were wonky, and he quickly found out that though his character was fast, her playstyle was more based on stealth and quick getaways, which, _boring._ He probably should’ve known that since she was an assassin, but man, what a letdown. He used her invisibility cooldown, which didn’t feel satisfying. He’d rather have everyone shooting at him than not. Games were more fun that way!

Octavio quit the game halfway through with a yawn, instead opening up Overwatch. It was another one of his interests that fluctuated—last year he had uninstalled it for eight whole months before redownloading it out of boredom. He didn’t play it too much nowadays, currently streaming speedruns of other games, but he fell back into the motions easily, queuing up for a game which was gonna take _foreverrrrr._

He watched Crypto play, fingers tapping impatiently against his desk as the other man got three kills by himself. He was a pretty good Zenyatta—Octavio found him very boring to play, but understood that he had his uses. He could use a healer to pocket him...

Crumpling up a receipt for take-out that he had ordered yesterday, Octavio threw it at the back of Crypto’s head. Crypto didn’t even flinch, just exhaled loudly as the ‘ROUND 2’ screen popped up. The character set-up screen came next, and Crypto turned around in his seat, fixing Octavio with a glare.

“ _What,_ ” he hissed, “do you _want?_ ”

“Let’s play together,” Octavio said, gesturing to his computer.

“No,” Crypto responded instantly. He turned his back on Octavio to start up his game. It seemed to be a ranked game—grandmaster if Octavio was guessing correctly, which, holy shit. He _needed_ that man to carry him, _now._ He exited out of his game queue and got up to do what he did best: be annoying. 

Their rooms were about the same size, but Crypto’s seemed much more spacious than Octavio’s due to a distinct lack of Stuff™. Hardly anything in the form of decor; a couple of throw pillows, the South Korea flag, and a bunch of sticky notes stuck to a chalkboard, all written in hangul. Octavio’s room was littered with trash and things he was technically supposed to have unpacked, but didn’t see the need to since they weren’t living here permanently. 

Standing behind Crypto, he watched the other man deal high amounts of DPS, occasionally healing a teammate like it was an afterthought, though never too late; nobody died under his watch, not even a Genji that was being a little too bold. Octavio crossed his arms over the back of Crypto’s chair and leaned against it, making sure that he could feel that Octavio was standing there. He swore he saw the other roll his eyes, but it was hard to tell from this angle.

It was cool that Crypto liked the same video games as Octavio, and he was good at them to boot. He wouldn’t have expected it from him; he seemed too focused to enjoy anything meaningless like games, but now that he knew he was into them as well, Octavio wondered just what else he was hiding beneath that cool exterior of his.

Getting him to play would be the first step to finding out.

“I main Tracer,” Octavio said, placing his metal feet on top of the wheels of Crypto’s chair. “I need a healer to pocket me ‘cuz I always die early even though I _know_ I could solo-kill tanks if all my healers weren’t _trash._ ”

“You’re that type of player, huh?” Crypto hummed, though he flinched like he regretted saying anything at all.

“Yep! I’m that type of player!” Octavio grinned beneath his mask, kicking against Crypto’s chair. “Which is why I need someone who can keep up with me.”

“I only play to keep my rank up,” Crypto said, nudging an elbow back to shove Octavio off of his chair. “Leave me alone.”

Octavio watched his gameplay for a couple of more seconds; Crypto ulted, leading his team past the second choke point on Hanamura, and Octavio moved to quickly sit on his desk, blocking half of the other's view with his body.

“ _Ssibal,_ ” Crypto cursed, punching Octavio none too lightly. “What the—go away!”

“Not ‘til you agree to play with me,” Octavio said, gripping Crypto’s desk hard so he wouldn’t be shoved out of the way too easily. 

He heard Crypto’s Genji start spamming _‘I need healing!’,_ and Crypto took his hands off of his keyboard and mouse to manhandle Octavio out of the way, letting out a string of curses in Korean as his teammates died one by one. Octavio cackled at the other’s dismay as the enemy Widowmaker killed his stationary Zenyatta from halfway across the map, and the Hanamura timer ran out; _DEFEAT_ flashed across the screen.

Crypto’s face was flushed red; either from embarrassment or anger at the loss, Octavio couldn’t tell, but he had never seen the other man look so... _uncool_ before. He looked to be on the verge of losing his temper, and he turned on Octavio, fists clenched at his sides.

“Get _out,_ ” Crypto said, voice low and guttural, and Octavio wanted to laugh. Man, all of this over a _video game?_

“Only if you promise to play with me,” Octavio said, crossing his arms over his chest. He was glad Crypto wasn’t _that_ much taller than him; he felt a lot more confident being a nuisance than he would have around, say, Caustic.

The next thing he knew, his arm was being shoved roughly behind his back and Crypto used his other hand to grip him by the scruff of his neck, leading Octavio back to his own room before shoving him onto his beanbag.

“Whoa, amigo, at least buy me dinner first!”

“I am not—” and here Crypto jabbed a finger at him, taking a deep breath like he was trying to collect himself. “—your _amigo._ ”

“You could be if we played together.”

“Leave me alone.”

“I will if you—”

“Fine!” Crypto raised his voice, but quickly quieted down. “One game. One game and then you leave me the _hell_ alone.”

Octavio laughed and got to his feet, shoving Crypto back in the direction of his computer and telling him his username in the process. It was funny to see the other get so worked up; he’d never seen him get mad like that, and it was hilarious that it had happened over something as simple as a video game. He’d have to find all the other hidden buttons located on Crypto's person and learn how to press them all.

**2.) sweets**

Playing games together became a regular occurence. Not right away—no, Crypto was much too mad at Octavio for ruining that one match after it had happened. He had pointedly refused to talk to Octavio for a whole week after that, even though they were on the same squad together for a couple of games, which, _wow,_ petty. He was very good at ignoring Octavio, and it got boring after a while when nothing he said garnered a reaction from the other.

He noticed that while playing Overwatch Crypto didn’t like using voice chat, but still got frustrated when his teammates failed to do what he wanted them to. An idea sprung up in his head one evening, and he had pushed himself on his rolling chair towards Crypto’s room, controller in hand.

“Hey,” Octavio said, and Crypto didn’t look at him, but he noticed the other’s jaw clenching. “If we play together, I’ll let you shotcall all you want.”

“No you won’t,” he sneered, but quickly snapped his mouth shut like he hadn’t meant to say anything at all.

“Yeah, you’re probably right, but I’ll at least try.”

Crypto didn’t respond, his fingers drumming impatiently as yet another _DEFEAT_ screen popped up, so Octavio quickly gave up and returned to his own room so he could continue playing four different racers at once.

Not even fifteen minutes later, a shadowy figure blocked the light from coming into his room, and he glanced up to see Crypto standing there awkwardly, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“Can I help you?” Octavio asked, hoping the other couldn’t tell that he was smirking beneath his mask.

“A couple of games,” Crypto said stiffly, like he didn’t really want to be asking. “Just a couple so I can get my SR back. And you have to listen to what I tell you to do.”

“Aye aye, captain,” Octavio said somewhat sarcastically, and Crypto bit his lip, but went back to his room with nothing further to say. They queued into a ranked match together, playing a couple of games and the next thing Octavio knew, they were doing it once a week, every week.

He wouldn’t pretend that he was very good at listening to what Crypto said, but he was definitely better than the rest of their teammates. The first session they played together they only lost one game, and he felt that Crypto’s attitude towards him was slightly better because of it. So, would it be annoying to fall back whenever Crypto told him to? Yes, but it was worth it if it meant getting on his good side. And he didn’t fall back _all_ the time. Just when he thought Crypto would be most mad at him if he didn’t.

Their third time playing games together, Crypto came to him with a condition; if they were to continue playing together and Crypto were to continue ‘carrying’ Octavio, he would need to get him coffee and food whenever he asked for it. He apparently didn’t like leaving his room much, didn’t like forced smalltalk with the other Legends, so Octavio would be his little errand boy every time they played together.

Which, ugh, but hey. If it brought his rank up, learning how to make coffee couldn’t be too hard, right?

The first time Octavio made Crypto coffee, he burned it. The second time it smelled so pungent that he dumped it down the sink and bought him a coffee from the vending machine instead. The third time it seemed actually drinkable, so he carried it to Crypto’s room, steaming hot and black. He set it down on Crypto’s desk, purposely avoiding his coaster just to be annoying, and the other man glanced at it before frowning.

“Just black?” He asked, picking it up and sniffing it. His nose wrinkled, which was kind of cute to see. 

“Do you not like it plain?” Octavio asked. He had assumed he would be boring and like his coffee without sugar. Octavio himself didn’t like coffee too much, it always seemed to taste horrible no matter how much cream he put inside, so he had guessed that Crypto would be the exact opposite of him and take his coffee black. Evidently, that was not the case.

“No,” the hacker said, and got to his feet with a sigh, carrying his cup back to the kitchen. Octavio followed, chattering away about how much he hated the taste of coffee and didn’t know anything about coffee preferences. He watched Crypto put three spoonfuls of sugar into his coffee, followed by three pumps of creamer. Octavio then turned his head to the side so Crypto wouldn’t think he was looking, and out of the corner of his eye he watched the other man add two more spoonfuls of sugar, stirring it with a spoon.

“You like sweet things?” Octavio asked, and Crypto pursed his lips.

“Not really.”

“You just added five spoons of sugar.”

“I didn’t,” he said, but there was a light dusting of pink on his cheeks as he looked pointedly away, sipping from his coffee—which must be piping hot, but to his credit he didn’t even flinch.

“I love sweet things,” Octavio said as they made their way back towards their rooms. “Have you ever had tres leches cake? Or toast with sugar? Or—”

“I just said I don’t like sweets,” Crypto said defensively. “Go queue.”

Octavio felt that that was not the truth, but he had no idea why he would lie about it. He began to hatch a plan on how to find out as he queued for DPS, watching Crypto drink contently from his sugary drink.

The next time Octavio made coffee, he dumped a quarter of the bag of sugar into his cup and added a couple of squirts of creamer to make it taste as sweet as possible. When he handed it to Crypto, he took a sip and said without flinching, “Thanks.”

Octavio squinted at him. “I put a fuckton of sugar in there.”

Crypto stared at him. “Your point?”

“You _do_ like sweet things!”

“Why does it matter to you?” Crypto asked, arching an eyebrow. “And no, I don’t.”

“Oh, really? That’s a shame, ‘cuz I brought candy.” And here he whipped out a box of fancy chocolates his second stepmother used to hoard like they were treasure. Crypto stared at him in disbelief.

“Where were you even keeping that?”

“Doesn’t matter. Want some?”

Crypto’s eyes flickered down to the box in Octavio’s hands, lips pursed. Octavio had bought it just to see if the other man would have any sort of reaction—he was curious as to why he was so vehemently denying that he liked sweets. Maybe he really did dislike sweets, and coffee was the only outlier, but that would be the _boring_ answer.

Finally, with a sigh, Crypto mumbled, “I’ll have a couple.”

“Cool, because I don’t like chocolate.” Octavio tore the wrapping off of the box, and it was Crypto’s turn to scoff.

“How can you not like chocolate?” He muttered, picking up a chocolate piece filled with peanuts. “That sort of stuff seems like something you’d be into. All that sugar.”

“I like sour candies more,” Octavio said, and despite him just saying that he didn’t like chocolate, popped a caramel piece into his mouth. “C'mon, quit pretending. Do you like candy or not?”

Crypto gave a long sigh, chewing slowly, like he was thinking about it. After a short while he looked back at his monitor, which had gone dull due to inactivity. “...My old friend used to say it was girly to eat sweets, even though I think she just liked hoarding them all for herself. But I let it get to me even though it was dumb.”

“That is kind of dumb, yeah,” Octavio agreed. "A stupid reason to deny yourself chocolate."

Crypto snorted, giving a half roll of his eyes. “You’re very blunt. Did you buy these just to get me to eat them?”

"Yup.”

Crypto slid the lid back over the box before placing it carefully onto his desk, hidden from the view of anyone who passed by. He then turned to Octavio, opening his mouth like he wanted to say something, before snapping it shut. Octavio cocked his head to the side, about to ask what was up, when Crypto said, “Get out of my room. Go queue.”

“Aw man,” Octavio said, walking backwards towards his own room. “I thought we had something going there!”

Crypto didn’t respond, but he saw the other shake his head minutely, as if in exasperation.

 **3.)** **fingers**

Crypto was a pretty weird-looking guy. Okay, he was hot actually—muscular but not too muscular, tall but not too tall, with mostly-straight dark hair that stuck up in the back, betraying its secretly unruly nature. He was only a couple of years older than Octavio, but the dark circles beneath his eyes made him look older, more rugged, despite his mostly-neat appearance.

All of that aside, he was just...weird-looking.

The metal plating on his chin and jaw were off-putting yet surprisingly soft. Octavio had touched it once without the other realizing, so it was clearly just _on_ his face and not an actual part of it. The metal material extended down almost to his chest, glinting dully, and the man never answered any of Octavio’s questions on just what exactly it was all for.

He wondered how far the metal extended, and really wanted to ask a super inappropriate question, but despite whatever Ajay said, he _did_ have a filter inside his brain. It rarely came into use, but it did prevent him from asking ‘hey is your dick metal too’, so there was that.

He had never noticed before that there was metal on Crypto's fingertips too. He wore weird gloves that only covered three of his fingers, and Octavio had just never really paid attention to his hands—not until one day during a game, crouched in one of the suspended train carts in the Train Yard. He was low on health, coughing up little droplets of blood inside his mask, which was gross, but it was admittedly his own fault for going into a squad with only one gun.

Their third teammate was knocked on the Mirage Voyage, a rando with something to prove who had dropped solo, only for it to backfire horribly. At least they were just bleeding out, and not entirely dead yet. He and Crypto could get to them. 

If they could escape this place alive first—and Octavio was currently too low on health to even make it half a mile before his stim would overload his body and cause severe organ failure. Good times.

A hand was suddenly shoving something towards him, and he realized that the man beside him was giving him one of his syringes. Crypto had been the one to grab Octavio by the back of his jacket and haul his ass onto a zipline, saving him from a cacophony of grenade explosions, muttering expletives beneath his breath as Octavio continued firing his Spitfire one-handed. He had missed every single of his shots, but hey, he tried.

He was glad that the other had saved him; dying to grenades was probably his least favorite way to go out, and he was now handing over one of his precious syringes. They were getting along swimmingly.

“Gracias,” Octavio said, and Crypto grunted, pulling out his puzzle cube with his other hand. Octavio took the syringe from him, but paused when he noticed something weird. Before the hacker could retract his hand, Octavio grabbed him by his wrist, the other letting out a surprised little noise at the sudden motion. 

“Whoa, what’s up with your fingers?”

Crypto’s hands were bigger than Octavio’s, most evident in the fact that his fingers were much longer and more slender. He had what his father would have called ‘piano playing hands’, but that wasn’t really what Octavio was focused on—the dude didn’t have fingertips.

Well, okay, scratch that, he did, but they were made of metal. Or covered in metal. Whatever it was, it was weird. The pads of his fingers were metallic and shiny, and he didn’t know how he’d never noticed them before. What kind of body mod was this?

“That’s...” Crypto fumbled for words before yanking his hand away, beginning to steer his drone. “Private.”

Their teammate died, and Crypto said that he would go pick up their banner with his drone, so Octavio waited impatiently, healing up with the syringe that had been given to him. He considered dropping down onto the ground to at least look for a second gun, but he heard the sound of someone zipping up behind him, and instantly shoved Crypto. “ _Oye,_ look out—”

“Hi, friends!” Pathfinder said cheerfully, before emptying his Devotion mag into the two of them, and their squad was eliminated.

After that game, it seemed that Octavio couldn’t stop noticing Crypto’s fingers every time they interacted, their padded metal tips often seeming to catch the light and glint. The metal was pretty dull, so he could only attribute its sudden noticeability to him now knowing that it existed, when he had previously been unaware.

About three days after that incident, he and Crypto were sitting in the medical examination waiting room. They had to get check-ups every so often to make sure they were still fit for the games, and did it in groups. Gibraltar was currently in the doctor’s office getting his check-up, leaving Octavio and Crypto sitting side-by-side, both on their phones but enjoying one another’s company. Or so he hoped.

Glancing over at the other man, he saw that he was playing a game idly, using his thumbs to maneuver a character through a catacomb-like maze. He wasn’t wearing his gloves today, so Octavio could see that all five of his fingertips had the same metal stuff on them. 

When his character died, Octavio reached over to grab his phone from his hands, yanking it away from the other man without much warning.

Crypto just looked over at him, unimpressed. He was far too used to Octavio’s shenanigans now, apparently. “Can I help you?”

“What’s with your hands?” Octavio asked bluntly, waggling his own fingers at him.

Crypto looked down at his. “I don’t know. What _is_ with them?”

“I’m talking about your fingers! What’s with all that metal?” Octavio suddenly squinted. "Are you a robot?"

Crypto fixed him with a look, his lips turning up at the corners. He looked like he was trying hard not to smile, but Octavio didn’t get what was so funny. “I am not a robot, but if we are asking questions, then why are you wearing a mask even now?”

“Easy,” Octavio said flippantly, gesturing to his covered face. “I’m ugly.”

“No you’re not,” Crypto replied instantly. Octavio stared at him—he had said it as a joke, but Crypto’s response had made a weird feeling squirm inside his stomach. It was short-lived, though:

“Wait, what?”

Crypto’s jaw suddenly clenched, and he bent his head, running his fingers through his hair, like he’d just accidentally admitted to something he wasn’t supposed to.

“You’ve never seen me without it on,” Octavio accused, jabbing a finger aggressively at the other and almost dropping his phone in the process, but he saved it just in time.

“...I have,” Crypto sighed out, a weird edge in his voice. Guilt, maybe? Nah, no way. “I looked into everyone before I joined, and I found your old Instagram.”

There was a pause. His old Instagram? God, that thing was filled with high school pictures. Embarrassing, and probably not a good indicator to Octavio’s current attractiveness.

“That’s creepy,” Octavio said, because he couldn't believe the other had found it in the first place. Crypto buried his face in his hands, which he thought was amusing.

“ _Mianhaeyo,_ ” he apologized quietly. “I probably should have told you.”

An idea sprung up in his head then. “You can make it up to me by telling me what the fuck’s wrong with your hands!”

Crypto snorted, still hiding his face from view, but after a long moment he sat up, stretching his palm in front of him to display the metal on the pads of his fingers.

“They are body mods,” he explained bluntly. “To erase my fingerprints.”

“Whoa,” Octavio said, and looked down at his own hands. Erasing your fingerprints? That sounded pretty fucking wicked. An off-the-grid type of deal, huh? Maybe he should consider that. Not because he was on the run on the government or anything, but the idea seemed pretty punk. It’d go with his image. He then put two and two together, and blurted out, “So is the stuff on your face—?”

“Anti facial-recognition plating,” Crypto said. He turned his head towards Octavio, the smile from earlier faded from his face, replaced by a far more serious look. “Please don’t tell anyone. _They_ think it’s for medical reasons.”

Octavio had seen people with similar plating on their faces, mostly people who had suffered from severe burns or had shrapnel tear apart their skin, so it wasn’t too far-fetched of a lie. The doctor suddenly called for Crypto, Gibraltar buttoning up his shirt on his way out of his office, and he watched him get up from his seat and follow the doctor through the door.

He wondered what Crypto needed all of that for. The guy seemed pretty paranoid and defensive of everything—maybe it was so extreme that he felt the need to get rid of his fingerprints and make his face unrecognizable. He’d heard of people building doomsday bunkers in the case of a disaster; this seemed like a much more technological and personal version of that, if that made sense to anyone else. Probably not.

...What if Crypto _was_ on the run from the government? This all seemed like stuff you would do if you were trying to hide from the authorities. Come to think of it, did he even know Crypto’s real name? He hadn’t bothered looking for his official file in the Apex database. Would he find a real name there, or would it be left blank, like Wraith’s?

He picked up his phone and did some quick scrolling, typing Crypto’s name into the Apex database and finding his profile quickly. He was a little disappointed to see that he did have a name after all: Hyeon Kim, spelled in roman letters, followed by hangul. And...holy fuck, he was _thirty-five??_ Octavio had thought he was thirty at _most._

...Unless this was all fake? Who was to say that a man with anti facial-recognition plating and synthetic fingertips would be truthful about his identity?

He turned his phone off when Crypto entered the waiting room again, tugging up the collar of his jacket as he passed by. He watched him go before getting to his feet, jittery pre-appointment nerves taking sudden hold of his body. God, he hated doctor visits, and he had at least been distracted when talking to Crypto, but now he felt like running away.

He kept his thoughts trained on Crypto throughout the entire appointment, letting the doctor check his ribs for any damage he might’ve gotten from wearing his binder so much and taking blood from him. Crypto was by far one of the most interesting people he had met in the past year, and each thing he learned about the other only made him want to learn more. 

The doctor showed him his blood chart, explaining some sort of correlation with taking stim without his filter and the increase in white blood cells, but he tuned her out. He didn’t care about any of that. He was most interested in Hyeon Kim right now, and he would do his best to crack him open and take a peek inside.

 **4.)** **home**

Octavio squinted at the address scrawled on a post-it note that he’d been carrying around with him all day. He could hardly read Pathfinder’s handwriting—which he guessed made sense, since he was a robot and all—but he was pretty sure that this was the right address. 

It was off-season; everyone was either at their house or staying in the Apex compound if they didn’t have a home to return to. He had been hoping that Crypto would be staying in the compound, but the mysterious man had left on the train with everyone else who stayed off-site. Octavio had worked it out so he would be staying with Elliott, because the compound was so _boring,_ but not before he paid a visit to Crypto’s house to see what it was like. 

He _may_ have bribed Pathfinder by promising him that he could visit Elliott over the break—Pathfinder was on good terms with all of the secretaries on base, so he could get into the Legend’s more personal information easily. Addresses and phone numbers weren’t listed in the files, so he had needed the other to retrieve Crypto’s for him. And hey, if he happened to get Elliott’s address too...oops?

It was a good thing that Crypto didn’t live too far from the base. Out of convenience, perhaps, which then begged the question if this was his permanent address, or simply a place for him to stay while he was participating in the Apex games.

Guess he would find out.

Octavio climbed the steps up to Crypto’s apartment, on the fifth floor of a towering complex on the edge of the city. A few people snubbed their noses at the amount of noise he was making going up the stairs, but none of them said anything as he adjusted his duffel bag over his shoulder, counting the apartment numbers. He probably should’ve dropped off his stuff at Elliott’s place first, but...whatever.

Stopping outside of what he hoped was Crypto’s door, Octavio put on a smile, because he wasn’t wearing his mask. It was shoved deep inside his bag, stinky and smelling of stale sweat, because he didn’t fancy any sort of public recognition right now. Not when he was on a mission.

Knocking three times on Crypto's door, Octavio waited about two seconds before knocking again. And again. And then again. He didn’t have much patience, excitement making each rap against the chipped paint sharper than before, but a question nagged at the back of his mind—what if Crypto didn’t stay here at all? What if it was a lie, just like he suspected his name to be?

Just as he thought this, the door opened, and he came face-to-face with the man himself, who looked...really fucking hot.

Crypto’s hair was normally combed neatly, but it was currently all stuck up in the back and on the side, like he’d been sleeping. He was wearing a low cut v-neck that put a sliver of his chest on display, and his gray sweats were nearly hanging off of his hips. Octavio felt bad for about two seconds, because the man really needed some sleep, but he threw his hands up without care and announced,

“Surprise!”

“It’s eight in the morning,” Crypto said, voice thick with sleep. “...How did you even find out where I live?”

“Pathfinder,” Octavio said by way of explanation.

Crypto sighed, rubbing at one of his eyes with a fist before glaring blearily at Octavio. “Well, you should go.”

“What?” Octavio hadn’t expected that from the other. He’d thought he would invite him in; he didn’t think he would be so rude. “But—”

“This is my house. We’re not neighbors anymore.”

“I came all the way from—”

“Octavio,” Crypto said, and wow, he really liked the way his name sounded when the other said it. It rolled off his tongue smoothly, like he’d done it a million times, and not like this was the first time he had addressed him by his real name. “I just woke up, my place’s a mess, and you really shouldn’t be here.”

Octavio could feel his face heating up with embarrassment as one of the people who had frowned at him earlier, a floor below them, snickered audibly. He really hadn’t been expecting to be tossed out like this, and he shuffled backwards, metal legs somehow feeling wobbly even though it was impossible. Half of him wanted to be stubborn, but he was getting really embarrassed now at Crypto’s clear rejection, so he turned on his heel and started going down the stairs.

“ _Aish_...” He heard Crypto hiss to himself, as if he were about to regret something, before he called, “Wait...come back.”

Fighting down a hopeful smile, Octavio ran back up the steps, his duffel nearly putting a hole in the wall as he came to a stop in front of Crypto’s apartment. “Yeah?”

“You can stay for breakfast,” Crypto sighed, running his hand down his face, before his eyes fixed on a point on the wall, as if avoiding looking at Octavio. “But then you need to go.”

“Oh fuck yeah,” Octavio said, pushing his way past Crypto readily. “Man, I’m starving, you have no id—holy shit it’s messy in here.”

Octavio would never claim to be a neat person by any means, but Crypto’s apartment was... _atrocious_. It looked like he had simply dumped the contents of his suitcase onto the floor—it looked like he had dumped _three_ suitcases onto the floor, piles of clothes in every corner of the sitting room. One pile was entirely jackets. Another pile had a strange indention in it, like someone regularly sat on it. Which he guessed would make sense, because there wasn’t a couch from what he could see.

“Um,” Crypto said, noticing Octavio giving that pile a weird look. “I had a couch, but...my cat...”

“You have a cat?” Octavio asked eagerly.

“I used to...he, uh, ran away.”

“Do you not have a washing machine, either?”

Crypto’s face was turning a very unflattering shade of red. “I d-do...”

Octavio had seen him flustered before, but not this much. Holy shit, it was entertaining, _and_ he was cute to top it off. “I’m just messing with you, man.”

“I said it was a mess in here,” Crypto sighed, gesturing to the kitchen, which was piled high with pizza boxes and take-out cartons. “My room’s a lot cleaner.”

“Can I see it?” Octavio asked.

Crypto looked bemused. “No.”

Octavio soon learned that the pizza boxes were not for show: Crypto did not know how to cook. He watched the other man stick two waffles into his toaster, pulling a bottle of syrup from his fridge, which was nearly empty except for drinks. Probably mostly expired too, unless he had had the time to shop last night before going to sleep.

They both ate waffles on paper plates, sitting on the floor across from one another. Octavio hadn’t ever had frozen waffles before—didn’t even know that they _could_ be frozen—but it honestly tasted the same as the waffles his fourth stepmom used to make. She’d probably hit him over the head for saying that, but it was true.

“So you’re staying with Elliott?” Crypto asked around a mouthful of food, and Octavio nodded, pushing his waffles around in the syrup. He wasn’t too fond of the stickiness, but he felt like if he complained, he’d be kicked out sooner than he liked. “Do you not have your own place?”

“Nope,” Octavio said, and picked up the water bottle he’d been given, taking a sip. “I’ve never lived alone before. It’d be kind of weird.”

When Crypto raised an eyebrow silently, he went on to explain: “Well, my parents were away a lot growing up, but I always had live-in maids and nannies. I left home for the Games, but I’ve always spent off-seasons at the compound, so I’ve always been surrounded by others.”

“...I think I’m the opposite,” Crypto sighed quietly, setting his empty plate down on the ground. “I’ve always wanted my own place to live. I didn't really have one growing up."

“It’s pretty dirty, though,” Octavio commented with a glance to their surroundings.

Crypto shot him a filthy look. “I haven’t cleaned it yet. And I’ve seen _your_ room.”

“Hey, I’m not judging! You said your bedroom’s cleaner, right? Can I see?”

“No.”

“C’mon, pleaaase? I wanna see your sick PC set-up.”

“I don’t have one.”

“Liar.”

“Octavio.”

“Liaaaar!”

“I’ve already told you that you can’t stay for long,” Crypto said, getting on his knees and reaching over for Octavio’s empty plate. He carried both of their messes to the overflowing trash can, shoving the dirtied paper utensils inside, pushing the trash on top further into the bag. “You don’t want _them_ to see you with me.”

Ooh, there went that mysterious _'them'_ again. The other man often said weird cryptic shit like that, which only served to pique Octavio’s interest even more. “Who’s they?”

“If you leave now, you can catch the ten train,” Crypto said, ignoring his question, which only served to make him even _more_ curious.

“But I don’t wanna leave,” Octavio complained, and got to his feet, shifting on his metal heels frequently to work through the energy that was cooped up inside him. “I wanna see you.”

Crypto gave a short and sudden laugh, before shaking his head, not meeting Octavio’s eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest, staring out his tiny, dirty kitchen window. It was the only window not covered. “No, you don’t.”

“I didn’t come all the way over here just for you to be so _boring_ , compadre,” Octavio groaned, approaching the taller man with a jittery spring in his step. “Let’s hang out, then. Find an arcade or something.”

"Another time."

"Why not _now?_ " Octavio needled, taking the other's hand just to annoy him. He tugged on his wrist, trying to get him to look his way, but he just kept staring out the window. Octavio wouldn’t leave, not without knowing more about the man in front of him, not without seeing all of the hidden nooks and crannies hidden on his person. "If you're gonna kick me out, at least tell me who _they_ is."

 _The government? Hitmen? The mafia?_ Endless possibilities, each more exciting than the last.

Crypto's tired eyes met his own then. He looked like he wanted to say something, and Octavio was hopeful that he had succeeded in annoying the other into letting him stay, but Crypto just jerked his head to the side with a somewhat defeated sigh. “No. Maybe sometime later. At a different time and place."

Octavio rolled his eyes, exasperated. “You’re so—”

_Boring? Secretive? Afraid? Paranoid? Weird? Shy? Cute?_

Not one to hold anything back, Octavio leaned into the other man so quickly that he shuffled backwards, alarmed, like he thought Octavio was about to attack him. He didn’t; just grabbed him by that stupidly low v-neck and pulled him down to kiss him on his stupid lips.

He tasted like syrup, which Octavio thought was a pretty terrible thing to taste like, but he probably tasted like syrup too, so it was a forgivable offense. 

Taste aside though, it was a really nice kiss. He was warm and solid and unmoving, but that changed when Crypto started kissing him back, sliding his hand to the back of Octavio’s neck and pressing against his head to angle it, deepening the kiss, which, _fuck yeah._

Kissing Crypto was interesting; he could feel the soft metal of his anti facial-recognition stuff brushing against his own face, could feel the metallic pads of his fingers kneading into the back of his neck gently. He thought to himself that beneath all the layers of coolness, the other was really awkward, and it showed even in kissing. He didn’t seem too experienced, but that didn’t keep one of his hands from wandering low to touch Octavio’s ass, which, _fuck yeah_ times two.

They both pulled away for breath at the same time, Crypto staring at him, not looking so tired anymore. Octavio really hadn’t planned this, but he was glad he had done it, smirking up at the other as he slid his hands down his front, watching the way the other slowly continued to lose his composure, taking deep, steadying breaths.

“You...should go,” Crypto said, but he didn’t sound that sure of himself.

“We should go on a _date,_ ” Octavio said back. His mind was moving at a million miles an hour, and that was his most coherent thought at the moment.

“That’s a bad idea.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a good one, but it might be my best.”

Crypto rested his palms against the counter behind him, as if trying to steady himself. He stared at Octavio, who stared right back, gaze unwavering. He wished he had his knife on him to flip it around and fiddle with, nervous bursts of energy building up in his chest, but it was stuffed inside his duffel on the other end of Crypto’s apartment.

“I’ve never been on a date before,” Crypto said, like that would somehow discourage Octavio.

“Oh yeah?” Oh, he could show this man _the ropes._ “I have. _Andale_!”

“I like you, but—”

“Then go on a date with me,” he cut him off. Crypto’s jaw was working, teeth clenched, as he glanced around his apartment, almost as if he were looking for a route of escape—or for watching eyes. Octavio’s foot was tapping against the ground, an impatient tic he couldn’t control as he placed his hands on his hips, fighting back the urge to pull the man down for another kiss to convince him further. 

Crypto carded his fingers through his hair with a sigh, before finally relenting. “Just this once. We should get a hotel room, or something.”

Octavio’s lips turned up into a smile, a bubble of laughter escaping him. “Why would we need a hotel room? What d’you think is gonna happen, amigo?”

“I—” Crypto took a breath before standing up straight, his voice returning to its normal low tones, but there was still a little bit of pink in his face. “Nothing. Let me get dressed.”

He pushed past Octavio, who watched him enter his room, shutting the door sharply behind him.

Okay, so. He had just scored a date with a hot and mysterious hacker guy who _may_ be on the run from the government. This was going to be pretty fucking cool. Definitely far more interesting than all of his previous boyfriends.

Pulling out his phone, he texted Elliott:

(9:17) _might not b comin home 2 ur place 2nite srry_

(9:18) **But why**

(9:18) _u want the truth?_

(9:18) **Not really**

(9:18) _im gonna get RAILED BABEEYYYY_

(9:19) **GROSS**

(9:19) **But by who**

(9:20) _crypto_

(9:21) **You’re lying to me**

(9:21) **I think you’re a liar**

(9:21) _u wish amigo but im gettin dick and ur not_

(9:21) _stay mad_

(9:21) _ill come over tmrw_

(9:22) _if i can walk ;)_

(9:22) **I'm blocking you**

(9:27) **Wait are you at his house??**

(9:30) **Tav where are you**

 **(** 9:30) **How the hell did you get his address**

(9:45) **Hello**

(10:02) **Whelp stay safe and use protection I guess**

(11:56) **SILVA**

(11:56) **WHY IS PATHFINDER OUTSIDE MY DOOR!!!**

Octavio hadn't looked at any of those messages yet—not when he was busy making out with Crypto in the dressing room of a department store, away from prying eyes. They had found their way in there after wandering from shop to shop in a mall, Octavio getting a little handsy once he deemed that they were in a private enough area. Crypto had rolled his eyes, but led him to this dressing room all the same.

"Are we dating now?" Octavio asked impatiently against the other's lips when he pulled away for breath. Crypto stared at him, eyes wide, panting lightly. "Yes, no, maybe so?"

"Uhm." Crypto cleared his throat, eyes flickering around in the paranoid way Octavio had gotten used to. He cocked his head to the side, impatient, before leaning in to kiss him again just to let Crypto know what he would be missing if he didn't say yes.

Crypto's hands slid down his sides, which made him shiver a little, biting on the other's lower lip in response which made him gasp. They kept at that for another few minutes, Crypto gripping his hips while Octavio found new ways to elicit little noises from the other's mouth. They pulled away again, and Crypto stared at him, eyebrows furrowed and clearly biting the inside of his cheek in thought.

Finally, he mumbled quietly "We can, but we have to keep it on the down-low."

Octavio rolled his eyes. "Boring."

" _Y_ _ah._ " The hands on his hips squeezed harshly, and Crypto's voice took a turn—less hesitant and awkward, more clear and concise and serious. "This is not a joke. _They_ will eliminate you. And if they don't, _I_ will."

Was that a _threat?_ Well, mark Octavio down as scared _and_ horny! He _knew_ it wouldn't be boring chasing after the man before him, and he grinned in response to his words, which made Crypto arch an eyebrow, like he hadn't been expecting that sort of response.

"Okay, fine. I'll keep it as low-key as I can, cariño, but no promises." He slid his hands down to the waistband of Crypto's pants, sticking two fingers inside to tug at them lightly. "Now, what were you saying about a hotel room? Unless you're into public stuff?"

"Ah," Crypto said, voice immediately returning to that of _awkward._ "W-we—um—"

Octavio cupped the other's half-hard cock through his pants with a grin. "Sí?"

"...I know a cheap motel not far from here," Crypto finally said, bucking his hips lightly into Octavio's hand, face getting steadily more flushed.

"Like a love hotel?" He asked, genuinely curious.

" _No._ "

"Aww, I've always wanted to go to one of those things."

"I don't think we should date," Crypto said flatly.

"Hey, you haven't even seen me naked yet."

He reached his other hand down to use both hands to undo Crypto's belt, who looked at him inquiringly, but didn't stop him. Excitement made his heart pound in his chest, excitement that he might be about to have sex with a mysterious guy probably hiding from the authorities, excitement that he might just get fucked in a department store dressing roo-

A knock sounded on the door. "Sir? Are you alright in there?"

Octavio had to press his face into Crypto's chest to prevent his laughter from being heard.

"Just fine," Crypto called, voice steady. "I just had some trouble getting these pants on."

"Do you need a bigger size?"

"That would be great, actually."

They both heard the sound of heels clacking away before Crypto grabbed Octavio by his wrist, tugging him out the door as discreetly as he could. "C'mon, let's get out of here."

"So we can go to a love hotel?" Octavio asked, amused.

"It's _not_ a love hotel!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kor tl:  
> ssibal: a vulgar kind of swear, i couldnt find a consistent translation but its along the lines of "fucker!"  
> mianhaeyo: "i'm sorry". he actually says 'mianhae' in-game, but 'mianheyo' is much more formal and he uses this one due to the context of the apology  
> aish: to my understanding its basically a milder version of "ssibal", and is used like how we say fuck/damn/crap  
> yah: to get one's attention, like hey
> 
> sp tl:  
> oye: to get one's attention, like hey  
> andale: come on/lets go!  
> cariño: any endearment you want it to be. darling, baby, dear, sweetie, its got a wide range LMAO


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tws for this chapter:  
> none, i think, aside from more mild implied sexual content!
> 
> also for a good portion of this chapter, crypto is referred to as "hyeon", his canon fake name

**5.) identity**

Dating Hyeon was some mix of both exciting and frustrating.

It was exciting because Octavio knew he had only barely scratched the surface of what constituted Hyeon as a person. Exciting because even when they were alone, kissing and touching and being as close as humanly possible, he could still feel the other's eyes burning holes through him, on the lookout for danger and ulterior motives. Octavio wasn’t sure what kind of ulterior motive could come from him riding the other’s dick between matches, but hey, whatever helped him sleep at night.

It was also frustrating because Octavio was not very good at being a low-key person. Too many times he had wrapped his arms around Hyeon, not thinking about it, only to get shoved away roughly or snapped at. The most amusing instance of this was him going in to kiss Hyeon on his cheek while they were eating lunch together only for the other man to hold up a slice of pizza so that his lips met tomato and cheese instead. Delicious, but frustrating.

It didn’t help that Octavio was starting to get, like, Feelings™ for him. Hyeon was no longer a shiny treasure chest that he got to peek inside every now and then, eager to know its contents; he now genuinely found himself craving the other’s presence, wanting to spend time with him and talk to him and kiss him and do whatever the fuck boyfriends were supposed to do.

He didn’t really _know_ what boyfriends did. Yeah, Octavio was more experienced than Hyeon, but not by much. Not where it counted.

Experienced enough to make Hyeon cry out when sucking him off in the showers while everyone else slept; experienced enough to talk Hyeon through eating him out ‘cuz he loved the feeling but it needed to be done _right._

Not experienced enough, though, to know how to deal out softer affection without feeling weird about it; not experienced enough to find _some_ subtle way to be intimate with his boyfriend without letting the whole world know.

Not experienced enough with people in _general_ to deal with Hyeon when he was in his more serious moods, silent and brooding and _alone_. Octavio was, by default, not a serious person, and while he could perceive that other people were not in the mood for jokes or light-heartedness, it was hard for him to keep up or tone it down to suit them. 

He didn’t normally feel bad about it—not until Hyeon stormed away from him during dinner because he had apparently teased far too many sexual innuendos in the presence of others, and a foreign sense of guilt started creeping up the back of his neck. He had thought that the other was playing this little game of pseudo-flirting with him, because he didn't think it was _obvious_ , but he had evidently been wrong.

“What part of low-key do you not understand?” Hyeon hissed to him later that night, taking apart his drone on the rooftop of the compound.

It was the weekend, so they were out of the dropship, but the compound was apparently no safer for romantic endeavors—he'd tried kissing the other on the stairwell yesterday and had gotten pushed down two flights. Octavio couldn’t _believe_ that they’d have to wait for the off-season.

“I thought we were on the same page,” Octavio said defensively, wrapping his arms around his legs to prevent himself from getting too fidgety. _Not now, stupid little wiggly body, I’m trying to have a serious conversation._

(As if.)

“I thought we were, too. I said we had to keep this relationship low profile, Octavio.”

“So I can’t even joke with you?”

“You can joke with me, it’s just—” Hyeon ran one hand through his hair, spinning a small screwdriver in his other. He looked at the pieces of his drone splayed out before him, staring for so long that Octavio thought he had spaced out, before he finally continued, “Maybe we shouldn’t do this.”

“Wha—” Octavio sputtered instantly, and his body unwound quickly like it had been a coil ready to spring back into position. He scooted closer to Hyeon, trying to form his thoughts into a coherent English sentence. “But I—I _like_ this, man, I’m sorry for joking so much, I’ll try and be more serious about it!”

Because Hyeon was fun when he wasn’t doing all of this. Octavio liked the way his laugh sounded when he was trying not to giggle but failing miserably. He liked it when they talked about video games together, because it didn’t feel that Hyeon was so, _so_ much smarter than him like he usually did. He liked it when they slept close to one another, limbs entangled and his body unnaturally still, rare as that occasion was.

He liked it all, he just...

He had a hard time being low-key. It wasn’t in his nature, and he didn’t understand why they even needed to be low-key in the first place. It had been exciting and interesting and _different_ at first, but now Octavio was catching feelings for real, so it suddenly wasn’t so fun. He couldn’t even tell _Ajay_ about it, and the hiding was eating him up.

Hyeon gave him a look as he fitted the pieces of his drone back together, a sharp edge in his gaze that made him feel like he was being analyzed. Octavio met the other's eyes and they seemed to soften considerably before Hyeon swung an arm out, silent, and pulled Octavio close to him in an awkward hug.

“I understand that it is unfair to ask you, of all people, to keep quiet about something, but.” Hyeon secured his hand on Octavio’s hip, and he felt a weird butterfly-esque feeling take hold of his stomach as a kiss was pressed to his temple. “It’s for your own good. I promise.”

“Ah,” Octavio said, because he was reeling from that kiss and oh god why was his heart pounding so fast. “Yep.”

“Maybe someday you’ll know the truth, but for now, everything as it is will be the safest you can be.”

“Wow,” Octavio sighed against him, wanting to kiss back so bad because god _damn_ he was gay. “Love it when you say foreboding and cryptic things to me.”

“I was trying to have a moment with you.”

“Right, _lo siento_.”

Everything as it is will be the safest he can be? What the fuck was _that_ supposed to mean? Was Octavio in danger just by associating with Hyeon or something? _Hello?_

Maybe the Octavio two months ago would have found this purely adrenaline-fueling; a challenge, a danger, a rush. And he _did_ find this situation just that, but it was now mixed with a slightly more foreign feeling...concern, maybe? Why, exactly, would his boyfriend be in so much trouble that even being associated with other people put their lives at risk? Just what had Hyeon done that warranted synthetic fingertips and anti facial-recognition technology and the need to keep all of his relationships on the down-low?

Feeling like the moment was Tender (with a capital T) enough to get away with at least one kiss, Octavio prodded at Hyeon’s cheek until he turned to face him, and he kissed him quickly, drawing away lightning fast and saying,

“Tag, you’re it.”

Hyeon blinked, confused, before he mumbled out, “I don’t get it.”

“You have to tag me back,” Octavio said, and then tapped his own cheek. Hyeon’s lips turned up at the corners, just a little.

Success.

“Just this once. Then we’ll have to put off this game for a couple of weeks. Will just one be enough to sustain you?”

“I dunno yet. Why don’t you give it a try?”

Hyeon placed his hand on the back of Octavio’s neck and brought him closer, pressing his lips to his own with a sort of force that took him by surprise. He moved his hand to slide it behind Hyeon’s neck as well, but the other man pulled back, dancing away from his chasing fingers with a blunt,

“You’re it.”

He slid off the roof, his drone following with a chirp, and took off back inside the compound. Octavio was dumbfounded for about five seconds, before he got to his feet and jumped off the roof tiles as well with an indignant _‘that’s cheating!’_ He couldn’t even tag Hyeon back for another couple of weeks, why did he have to run away like that?

Coward.

Following his boyfriend inside, Octavio strapped his mask back on. It was a lot easier to hide his emotions this way—nobody could tell that he was sending heart-eyes to Hyeon if they couldn’t _see_ his eyes, after all.

Right, he could totally do this low-key thing! He just needed to think of it like it was a challenge, with the ultimate prize being Hyeon Kim at the end of this season and his really soft lips, and his really big hands, and his really nice dick.

Yeah. _That_ was gonna be his goal.

* * *

“Where ya goin’ for break?” Ajay asked conversationally.

“Elliott’s place," Octavio lied easily. "Why?"

“Oh yeah? Funny, ‘cuz Witt just told me you ain’t going to his house at all.”

Octavio squinted at his friend over the menu they had been handed when they walked through the doors of this café. “...Fine, I’m staying at the compound, then.”

Ajay squeezed a slice of lemon into her iced tea, looking rather unaffected. “Really? I guess Wraith was just seeing things when she noticed ya packin’ your bags yesterday.”

“Is this an interrogation? Am I being interrogated?”

“Maybe,” Ajay said, and took a long sip from her drink. Octavio’s foot tapped against the ground impatiently as he waited for her to continue with her questioning, but she just kept drinking, staring at him with an impervious look on her face. Feeling like she was doing this on purpose, he stressed,

“And?”

“And I think you’re a liar. Well, I _know_ you’re a liar, but I don’t know _why_ you’re lying about where you’re going during break.”

A waitress approached them, a dead-eyed smile plastered on her face as she poised her pen against her notepad and asked, “Are you guys ready?”

“I’ll take your chicken parmesan, please.” Ajay’s voice took a sudden turn for sweet and polite.

“Egg sandwich with bell peppers,” Octavio said when the waitress looked at him. “And can I get a refill on my drink?”

She glanced at his mostly-drunk cream soda. “Sir, this is your third one already.”

“He’ll take a water,” Ajay said before he could speak up, and she nodded, moving to place their orders with the chef. With a roll of his eyes, Octavio said,

“I wanted to try a different flavor this time!”

“Quit playin’, I know you’ve already tried every flavor here. You’re not going to avoid my question, Silva.” Ajay’s voice swung right back into accusatory. Octavio balanced his chin on his fist, glancing around for any curious eyes.

They were both dressed down; Ajay’s hair was in a plait over her shoulder, and both of their respective tattoos were covered up to prevent easy recognition. Nobody was paying any attention to them, so he sipped the last dregs of his cream soda before saying,

“I’m staying with Hyeon.”

Ajay’s expression didn’t let up. “Who?”

“Crypto, jeez. I thought you knew everyone’s real names?”

“I haven’t had the time to look at his,” Ajay confessed, but she cocked her head to the side with a frown. “But...why are you staying with him?”

Octavio knew Hyeon wanted them to keep their relationship on the down-low, but...that mostly meant towards the public, right? He could still tell his best friend slash _hermana,_ right? He just had to tell her not to tell anyone else, and they would be fine. Probably. I mean, he had already told _Elliott_ on the day it had happened, and he was the absolute worst person to tell stuff like that! At least they were paying him to shut up.

So Octavio said in as low of a voice as he could manage, “‘Cuz we’re dating.”

Ajay stared at him silently, unmoving. The waitress came back with Octavio’s water, swapping out his used glass for the new one, before leaving. Ajay still didn’t move. Octavio squinted at her, engaging in a wordless staring contest with her, before she asked,

"No, for real, why are you staying at his house?”

“I’m not lying!” He whispered indignantly, and pulled his phone out from his pocket. Hyeon didn’t really like pictures being taken of him, usually holding up his hand to block the camera from seeing him, but Octavio had managed to take a selfie of them several months ago. 

It was from a couple of days after the first time he had set foot in Hyeon’s house. They were sleeping in Hyeon’s room, squeezed onto his twin bed, which was fine because they both slept curled up and could fit onto small spaces together. At some point in the night, Hyeon’s head had ended up on Octavio’s chest, and when he woke up it was to see that the taller man was drooling all over the front of his shirt, so of course he had taken a selfie. For blackmail purposes, and also because it was really cute.

He showed this picture to Ajay, who took his phone into her own hands with a scrunched facial expression, like she couldn’t believe her own eyes.

“What the hell, Silva?” She asked loudly, and he shushed her, which just made her face scrunch up even more. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“He asked me not to!” Octavio said, and plucked his phone from her hand, turning it off so nobody could glimpse the photo he had taken. It seemed that Hyeon’s paranoia had wormed its way inside of him, too. “It’s been like this since January.”

“That was four months ago,” Ajay noted, and thanked their waitress when she appeared with their food. “You managed to keep it a secret for that long?..I'm almost impressed.”

“Thanks,” Octavio said, a little smug because she usually told him that he was terrible at keeping things private. “But you can’t tell anyone else, alright, chica?”

“Why?”

“Hyeon’s rules. I don’t know. I think he’s on the run from the government.”

“Don’t we all,” Ajay said mildly, cutting up her chicken parmesan.

“You’re not gonna tell people, right?”

“Of course not! I’m not you!” Ajay stuck a piece of chicken into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully while he himself bit into his egg sandwich, which was very disappointing. The bell peppers were barely noticeable and it tasted bland, only the barest hints of salt and mayo making themselves known on his tastebuds. _Ugh, white people food._

“Well...good luck, and all,” Ajay said after a while. Octavio snubbed his nose at her, pushing away his half-eaten egg sandwich with distaste.

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” He asked around a mouthful of half-eaten egg.

“I’m just sayin’, I know how you get with boyfriends.”

“Hey—”

“You’ve never had one that’s lasted longer than a couple of months, Tavi,” Ajay cut him off with an imploring look, which was hard to take seriously when she had a bit of parmesan on her lower lip. “He’s lasted a bit longer than most, I'll give ya that, but...”

Octavio wanted to protest as loudly as he could, and almost did, before he bit down hard on his tongue, reminding himself that he was in public. Right, low-key! He had to be all _private_ and _secret_ about it. All he had to do was be _low-key_ for a couple more hours, and then that hacker was all his for the off-season!

But it didn’t sit well with him that Ajay had assumed that he would grow bored with Hyeon quickly. He was still as intrigued by him as he was before, even when they barely knew each other—that, and Octavio was really starting to like _everything_ about him. His mysteriousness was no longer the main contributing factor; he was pretty, and smart, and his cocky cool exterior versus his awkward interior was fun to bounce between.

He didn't see himself dumping Hyeon any time soon, and frankly thought he would be a bit... _upset_ if they did break up.

(Only because he was so interesting, though. He would just be disappointed by the loss of an adrenaline-filled mystery! Octavio wasn't _so_ attached to him yet that he would feel upset if they broke up because he was starting to _like_ the other. That would be lame, and he was anything but!)

“I'm into him," Octavio mumbled defensively, feeling the need to get the last word in as he crossed his arms over the table. “Really."

Ajay bounced her eyebrows. “Do you _love_ him?”

“Ew. _Gross_.” He snubbed his nose, pretending to gag. "He's not—he doesn't matter to me in _that_ way."

“I knew you’d say that.” She smiled, though there was something a little off in it. Disappointment, almost. "You never change."

* * *

Hyeon apparently moved houses every season. He had five different addresses he alternated between, which would explain the perpetually messy state of his _everything_ , but also _holy shit dude why._

His current address was a house just on the outside of town, small and looking like a solid block of cement more than anything else, with shuttered windows and moth-eaten curtains. That aside, it was a pretty nice upgrade compared to his small and cramped apartment, and anything beat the nonexistent privacy of the Apex compound.

“I was actually planning on going back to one of my other apartments,” Hyeon explained, rubbing the back of his neck as Octavio tried turning the sink on, which didn’t work. “It’s one of those...micro-apartments that’s all one room, but I thought this one would be better. For us.”

Octavio smirked. “Are you doubting our ability to have sex in a micro-apartment?”

“Shut up, it had nothing to do with sex.”

“Oh, trust me, compadre. I could fuck you in a closet and it’d still be good.”

“ _Octavio._ ”

“Okay, sorry, is this a bad time to joke?”

“No, you’re just.” Hyeon’s hand moved from his neck to his face, trying to conceal the fact that his cheeks were tinting pink again. “Impossible. I chose this place because it’s more sustainable for two people to live together, Tavi-yah.”

That particular nickname made something bloom inside his chest. A really dumb, flowery and giggly feeling. It was cute and he liked it. A lot.

Fuck, he had it bad.

“Right, I get it.” Octavio tried turning the sink on again to distract himself from the flowers growing inside him. “It’ll be kind of hard to live without water, though.”

“I’ll call the company,” Hyeon sighed quietly, pulling his phone out, but Octavio approached him, lightly shoving his phone back down.

His boyfriend met his eyes, questioning, but allowed Octavio to push him onto the couch, because _yes_ this place had a couch and Octavio had never been so thankful for a piece of furniture in his life. Clambering onto Hyeon’s lap, Octavio made sure his metal knees wouldn’t dig too harshly into the other’s hips before beginning his assault on the other’s face: enough fluff, make out _now._

It was pretty nice to kiss like this for the first time in months. They managed brief and sloppy sessions in the locker room, late at night and whenever they were both feeling horny enough to risk getting caught, but that had happened a grand total of twice, leaving him starved for more. Their teeth clacked together in an almost uncomfortable way, but he liked the roughness of it all. Octavio bit down lightly on Hyeon’s lower lip and groaned when his boyfriend’s tongue found its way inside his mouth because _fuck yeah_ , he liked that a _lot._

Three months of impatient waiting had Octavio rolling his hips steadily against Hyeon’s crotch, laughing breathlessly into the kiss when the other gasped in response, before sliding quickly off of the couch and onto his knees in front of it, hands moving lightning-fast to unbuckle his belt for him. Not to sound thirsty, but it had been _so_ long since he’d last sucked a dick, and-

“Ah—wait—” Hyeon suddenly said, pressing his knees close together as if attempting to hide the fact that he was nursing a semi. Octavio paused, somewhat nonplussed, and allowed his hands to be lifted gently away from undoing the belt.

“We should. Wait,” Hyeon suggested, voice stiff.

“Seriously?” Octavio was unimpressed and _very_ horny. “I’m like, super wet right now. Take responsibility for your actions."

“You're one to talk. But yes, seriously. We should eat first.”

“You’re so laaaame," Octavio complained, because _dude,_ he had been about to get dick for the first time in a month.

“Let’s go out.”

“I take it back. I want seafood.”

Hyeon frowned. “Aren’t you allergic to seafood?”

“Don’t care, I’m in the mood for shrimp.”

“No. Let’s do Mexican.”

“Or, you could _do_ the Mexican. Which is me.”

Hyeon kicked him in the thigh, which was worth it for the joke. His boyfriend then used his phone to pull up a list of Mexican restaurants in the area, and they both looked through it before Octavio jabbed his finger at one with a giant neon shark on its door and said, “ _That one._ ”

An hour later, they both sat across from one another, sharing chips and queso while upbeat music blasted overhead. It was a very small Mexican restaurant located in a strip downtown, squeezed between an Italian café and a Thai joint that weren’t any bigger. There were also sharks everywhere, which Octavio enjoyed immensely. His coaster had a shark on it, so when he put his drink on top of it, its face became hugely distorted. It amused him.

Octavio pointed it out to Hyeon, who nodded before returning his gaze to the window, watching the evening crowd bustle by with shopping bags and takeout cartons in their hands. Octavio frowned, before nudging his ankle with his foot and speaking up.

“Ahh, let’s look at the menu...you’ve eaten Mexican before, right? Definitely? What’s your favorite dish?" He asked, and when he didn't get any response added, "I like flautas, but you look like a menudo kinda guy. Maybe tamales?"

No reaction. Did that mean he'd never had tamales before? His life must be a sad one. He then suddenly noticed something on his menu.

"Oh fuck, they have salsa verde enchiladas! I might get those, one of my nannies used to make them all the time. That, and chicharrón."

"Hm," Hyeon hummed, which kind of made Octavio feel...bad. Like he wasn't being paid attention to.

It was a very familiar feeling.

"Hey, are you listening to me?” He asked, tapping his fingers impatiently against the shark-patterned table they sat at.

“Yeah,” Hyeon said, a fraction of energy seeping into his voice as he turned to smile at Octavio, but he still seemed distracted. “I have eaten Mexican before. I like the tacos.”

“Basic,” Octavio said, but was glad the other was talking to him now. “What kind of meat? Carnitas or chorizo? I like adobada.”

“Uhm,” Hyeon replied, looking lost.

“Good evening,” a man approached, evidently their waiter. “May I take your order?”

“Yeah,” Octavio said, taking charge, because Hyeon was going to eat _good_ food if he had anything to say about it. That wasn’t to say that carnitas weren’t good, but like, there were _so_ many other things to choose from. “I’ll have the salsa verde enchiladas, and he’ll have the tamales. Sauce on the side. Oh, and refried beans? Please?"

“Of course,” their waiter said, taking their menus back with a lively smile before walking away. Feeling good with his choices, Octavio looked back at Hyeon, who was staring at him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Hyeon said, before changing his mind. “You just sound cute when you speak Spanish.”

“Oh.” He hadn't even noticed they'd been speaking in Spanish, he had gotten too excited about the food thing. He felt his ears start to burn, and tried covering it up by pretending to choke on a tortilla chip, which made Hyeon thump his back in alarm. God, he had to stop reacting like this!! He couldn’t let his _boyfriend_ know that he _liked_ him!

That would be fucking weird.

When they got their food, Octavio watched Hyeon try his with anticipation, trying his best not to smile when the other said he liked it, because it brought him a strange sort of satisfaction knowing that his boyfriend liked something that he had chosen.

The meal passed with more chatter, mostly from Octavio, because after the initial few bites Hyeon seemed distracted again. He kept staring down at his tamales or into his drink, unblinking, which made Octavio start to get jittery. He didn’t know why he was acting like that, but it was giving him a looming sense of...doom, maybe? Nervousness, definitely.

Were they going to break up? Did he get diagnosed with cancer? Was he going to quit the games? Too many bad possibilities running in his mind, making his leg bounce so badly that Hyeon had to steady the table with his hands.

“Tavi-yah,” he said that nickname, and Octavio felt a good portion of his nerves melt right off and turn into regular excitable energy. “Keep still.”

“You know that’s impossible for me.” Octavio busied himself with pouring his extra sauce all over his mostly-eaten plate, drenching his remaining rice in salsa verde. He was just overthinking things, right? Hyeon was fine. He was imagining things! They weren’t going to break up. They were fine! Why would he care if they broke up, anyway? Why was that the first thing his mind jumped to?

_(Oh god what if he found out I told Ajay oh god oh god oh god)_

_(what if we_ do _break up??)_

_(AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH.)_

_(WHERE WILL I LIVE.)_

_(AJAY WILL SAY ‘I TOLD YOU SO.’)_

_(I HATE THIS.)_

He blinked, and the next thing he knew they were both walking towards the train, a healthy distance apart. He had no idea when they had paid and left, but it was like his brain had blanked out in that moment, which happened sometimes, especially whenever he started feeling agitated.

He looked over at Hyeon, who was doing something on his phone. God, he was really cute, even with his face half covered up, and Octavio was suddenly struck with the Incredibly Gay urge to do...well, _something._

They were in public, but...they were both disguised. Hyeon wore a baseball cap and a face mask. He also wore a face-mask, sunglasses, and a partial sleeve to hide his tattoo. They couldn’t be recognized, so it would be fine, right?..

When Hyeon let his hand drop to put his phone back into his jacket pocket, Octavio’s hand shot out, lacing his fingers with the other man’s. Hyeon shot him an unreadable look, and almost stopped walking, which made Octavio stumble a little on the sidewalk. He was hopeful for a couple of seconds that his boyfriend would keep holding his hand, but he instead let Octavio’s fingers slide through his grip, dropping his hand without a word.

Understanding that he had been rejected, Octavio turned his head away, because damn, that shit kinda hurt. 

Yet more nervous spikes of energy took hold of his body, and he felt like running a marathon. His pace sped up unknowingly as they got closer to the subway, so much so that without realizing it, he boarded a subway car so quickly he ended up leaving Hyeon behind. 

Staring at his boyfriend’s face through the dirtied windows, he felt like yelling. He didn't know what was going wrong or why this sudden sense of catastrophe was hovering over him. He just couldn’t do this. He’d fucked up. He couldn’t remain _low-key._

He got off at the next stop and texted Hyeon a series of emojis, trying to express how sorry he was that he had left the other behind, but Hyeon merely responded with a blunt ‘we need to talk' that made his temples start to ache with an oncoming migraine.

God, he really wanted to run a marathon now. He felt like he could make it all the way to Elliott’s house and back in the span of a couple of minutes with how much anxiety was starting to thrum through his veins, which was a really _weird_ sensation.

It wasn’t that Octavio had never been anxious before, but he usually thrived off of anxiety. Anything that made him feel nervous, scared, wary...that was all simply fuel for him. He churned negative emotions into adrenaline, and let it out in explosive bursts of energy. It worked for him, and he enjoyed it, so experiencing this current feeling was very unpleasant without a proper outlet.

He managed to meet up with Hyeon again on the next train, talking his mouth off just to give himself something to do, a way to deal with his restlessness. Hyeon looked at him, disquieted, but didn't say anything at all, and it wasn't until about halfway to Hyeon’s house that he realized he had been speaking in rapid Spanish this whole time without noticing.

Now that it was night time, it was easier to see that Hyeon’s little cement-block house was pretty isolated from everything else around it. You could hear anything approaching from all directions, and it only served to heighten his nerves. All of this open space...he just wanted to burn through it, just wanted to run.

“Octavio.”

Ah, fuck. He had blanked out again; one moment they had been approaching Hyeon’s house, and the next they were sitting on his couch. Stupid distracted ADHD brain.

“Yeah?” Octavio said, getting to his feet just so he could pace and let out his energy. _Okay, calm down, Silva. You're overreacting! Being emotional is_ Elliott’s _thing, not yours. Quit being a dumbass._

“You’re making me nervous,” Hyeon mumbled, watching his every move, once again looking rather upset, which only served to make the agitation Octavio was feeling like ten times worse.

“So are you," Octavio shot back, so quick and rapid he probably sounded angry. Hyeon set his lips in a hard line, like he were bracing himself for something, before he said,

“I have something to tell you.”

Octavio was never one to hold things back. The stupid amount of nervousness he'd been feeling for no apparent reason bubbled out in one clear-cut sentence: “Are we breaking up?”

Hyeon blanched a little, looking somewhat bewildered. “...Huh?”

“You’re being weird,” Octavio said, folding his arms as he tried not to sound like a child. “You’re distracted and you didn’t want to hold my hand and—”

God he sounded like a five year old. He hated this.

“This isn’t about you,” Hyeon cut him off before he could embarrass himself further. He seemed serious, alert, and his words made Octavio feel a lot better, but his attitude on its own was enough to cause anxiety too. “This is about me.”

“Oh,” Octavio said, feeling dumb, which wasn’t anything new. “Okay.”

“And I need you to promise that you’re going to keep this to yourself.”

“Okay?..”

“I’m serious,” Hyeon said, and stood up suddenly, startling Octavio a little. Hyeon grabbed at his wrist, rough, and continued, “These people will find us, and they will kill us.”

Okay, so, they were about to get into why Hyeon was Like That. Cool. And also terrifying, at the same time, because Octavio had _not_ prepared for this.

“But you can back out if you want. I realize that this is selfish of me, telling you who I am, but if this relationship is to continue, you need to know the truth.” Hyeon let go of Octavio’s wrist, shoving his hands into his pockets with a restrained sigh. “You can leave. We can break it off now if you decide.”

So this was. A lot. The Octavio six months ago would have jumped onto this opportunity at unlocking this mysterious man’s past, and he still did find it somewhat interesting, but...just why would they be in danger of getting killed? If Hyeon was involved in something _really_ serious, how would that affect Octavio? 

...Honestly, he was just overwhelmingly relieved that they weren't going to be breaking up, and he _did_ want to know more about Hyeon; satisfy the curious itch that had been irritating him for so long. And maybe once he knew the whole truth, they could be more open with their relationship. That would be cool.

So Octavio squared his shoulders back, and said, “Lay it on me, cariño.”

* * *

“Let me get this straight,” Octavio said, spinning his knife absentmindedly in his hand as his boyfriend watched him, trepidation coloring his eyes. Hyeon’s—no, _Taejoon’s_ —story had gone on for so long that he had started getting fidgety in the middle of it, and he had unpacked his bag to retrieve his butterfly knife to give his shaking hands something to do. “You're actually thirty-one, right?"

"Right."

"So you and Mila found a thing, and Mila got killed for the thing—”

“She’s not dead,” Taejoon bit out a little harshly, causing Octavio's mouth to snap shut in surprise. The other man then averted his eyes, looking a little ashamed of his sudden outburst. "I'm sorry, I just...hope that she is still alive.”

“Right,” Octavio said, but that seemed like a doubly awful thing, his sister being alive and captured somewhere instead of peacefully dead. “So, the...Syndicate, found out, and because they’re after you, you erased your identity?”

“Yes.”

“And you don’t want people getting too close to you because you don’t want them to find out?”

“Yes," Taejoon repeated.

“Damn. You kinda fucked up on that one.”

“I’m aware,” he sighed, rubbing his hand down his face. A familiar and tired gesture. “But you understand now, right? Why you can’t let anyone know that you are associated with me?”

“I guess,” Octavio said, and flipped his knife from one hand to the other. He understood now, but that didn't mean he _liked_ it. Even if there was a reason it was still going to drive him insane—he was used to being ignored, but to be cast aside by Taejoon, even if it was just pretend, would leave a sour taste in his mouth.

He suggested, “We could still be open about it! You could like, use me as a cover story!”

Taejoon squinted at him. “What?”

“If you think they’re suspicious of you already, you could...I dunno.” Octavio was pretty much grasping at straws on how they could stop hiding their relationship, flipping his knife across his knuckles and barely flinching when he accidentally cut his finger. “If they think you’re sneaking around, well, you could have a ready excuse. You’re making out with me, or whatever.”

“I’ll think about it,” Taejoon said tiredly, but Octavio had a feeling his mind was set on secrecy. “And I insist that you cannot tell anyone. If you do, I...”

He watched the other man fix his gaze at a point in the distance, steeling himself, before his eyes flickered back to Octavio’s face.

“I _will_ have to kill you. That’s a promise.”

“Wow,” Octavio said. One part of him was going fucking crazy at the thought—god, he’d have to keep all of this a secret because if he didn’t his boyfriend would kill him but like that was fair I guess—and the other part of him thought Taejoon sounded particularly sexy threatening him. “ _Me excitas mucho._ ”

“You’re very difficult,” Taejoon told him, which Octavio laughed at, because even if he didn’t speak Spanish he probably got the general gist of what he said.

“Lo siento." He wiped his bleeding pinky on his shorts. "I have a hard time taking things seriously.”

“You _need_ to take this seriously.”

“I know, I know.” Octavio tossed his knife aside, stretching his arms above his head before getting to his feet. Taejoon followed suit, not looking very pleased with the way their conversation was going so far. Octavio couldn’t help it; he was just naturally not a serious person at all. Sure, he had his moments, but as a whole he couldn’t take serious subjects without at least cracking a joke or two. It was less boring that way.

That wasn’t to say his boyfriend having his family destroyed and his identity stripped away for the sake of vengeance wasn’t exciting (and sexy), but like, how exactly were you supposed to respond to that?

“I’ll get used to it,” Octavio said, wrapping his arm around his boyfriend’s waist and leaning into his chest. Even if he didn't _want_ to get used to it, even if it _was_ going to drive him insane, he would rather date Taejoon than not. “I think I can manage keeping it quiet during the season, but you’re gonna have to make it up to me while we’re here, Taejoon.”

Taejoon didn’t respond for a while, just looked down at him silently, and Octavio began to fear that that was somehow the wrong thing to say. But then the other hugged him, gently burying his face into Octavio’s neck, which was pretty nice, until he felt wetness against his skin.

“Wh—hey, are you crying?” He asked indignantly.

“Sorry,” Taejoon mumbled, but kept hugging Octavio. “I haven’t told anyone my real name in years.”

“Oh,” Octavio said, patting the other on his back just a little awkwardly. “It’s probably...um...a relief for you?”

Taejoon nodded against him.

“Right! Okay.” He was maybe starting to get a better handle on comforting people. “One day, we’ll clear your name, cariño.”

Which, speaking of that, he had a _lot_ of thinking to do. He believed Taejoon’s story, he had no reason to doubt him, but it was a lot to process that your pseudo-government was a bunch of corrupt scumbags who sent out hitmen to kill and frame people. And he had technically _joined_ these scumbags when he signed up for the games. Or was in close contact with them, at least.

Yeah. Not fun.

Taejoon drew away from him, wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his jacket. When he let his arm drop he looked exactly the same as before, like he hadn’t just been crying against him. What an envious skill to have. Octavio had an easily readable face, which was why he kept his mask on most of the time.

Taejoom suddenly took Octavio's hand—the injured one—into his, taking a deep breath, before saying, “I appreciate it. I’m...sorry, I'm very awkward with words. But you taking the chance with me despite the risk means...a lot to me. I will remember this.”

His face was on fire. “Haha, w-well, you could always pay me back somehow?”

 _Shut up Octavio oh my god. Be serious for_ once _in your life._

Taejoon didn’t seem to mind that much, lacing his fingers with Octavio’s; a silent apology for the way he had let his hand drop earlier. This whole situation was starting to overwhelm Octavio: the risk it was to even date this man, the trust he was placing in him, and having to keep up with his fake identity Crypto and his fake ‘real’ identity Hyeon and his _real_ identity Taejoon.

Deciding to put his energy into finishing what they had started earlier, Octavio stood on his tiptoes to kiss the other, cupping his jaw and feeling the soft metal beneath his hand. Taejoon’s hand found its way onto the small of Octavio’s back as they kissed in his living room beneath the soft lighting, which was somehow a new experience compared to earlier.

He felt like he was kissing a different person, now. Which he guessed was true. Hyeon Kim didn’t exist, but Taejoon Park did. Even if he wasn’t kissing any differently, there was still a sort of dissonance to the situation, which made everything his boyfriend did feel novel.

He wondered how long this could last. How long until Taejoon got tired of his risks and his stunts and his issues upon issues, how long until he got tired of Taejoon's secrecy and the pressure it would put on keeping their relationship undiscovered. Just how long it took for the two of them to snap.

But that didn't seem to be anywhere in the near future; they were too absorbed in one another, in their lips and hands and breaths.

“Bedroom?” Taejoon mumbled quietly against his mouth, and Octavio giggled without meaning to, still somewhat keyed up with nervous energy.

“If you want.”

“I’d like that.”

“Nice." He didn't want to think about it all just yet. "Me too.”

This would take some adjusting, but he could get a handle on it. Probably.

They’d have to wait and see.

* * *

The month they spent during the off-season felt surreal. Half of it was boring— _yes, Taejoon, I understand you have to do your hacker stuff to overthrow the government but can we pleaaaase make out_ —and the other half of it was spent kissing every inch of his boyfriend and getting the same in return.

Of course, they had spent their last off-season together, but only for a couple of weeks before Octavio returned to Elliott’s house, and it had definitely been a lot more awkward then.

This month felt like their much-delayed honeymoon phase, a lot of kissing and petting and talking and _other_ stuff. They ate meals together (take-out more often than not, because neither of them could cook) and watched movies together and played games together. It felt weird being able to spend so much time with the other, but he thoroughly enjoyed it.

Whenever Taejoon started doing his Hacker Thing, Octavio entertained himself by filming new videos in the wide-open space surrounding Taejoon’s house, which hey, what did you know, was pretty great for setting up death-defying stunts. 

(“What were you _thinking?_ ” Taejoon asked in an incredulous sort of voice as he helped put Vaseline on Octavio’s thighs, covered in shiny burns. “ _Ei?_ Setting your fucking bike on fire?”

“It was fun though,” Octavio said, and he wasn’t about to complain about his boyfriend tending to his wounds. Even if they hurt a lot. “Ah, _querido,_ why don’t you kiss them better?”

Taejoon responded by flicking a glob of Vaseline onto his nose.)

It was currently only a couple of days before their little bubble would be burst, and they would have to return to the dropship to head back to Talos. Octavio was unusually tired, having stayed up streaming games for the past twenty-four hours. He had his own set-up in Taejoon’s backroom so nobody would ever see them together, and hadn’t seen his boyfriend in that whole time frame. He was making up for it by cuddling with him, even if he was twitching pretty badly with the need to move despite his own tiredness.

Taejoon’s hand was stroking down his back, rubbing soothing circles into his bare skin, which was pretty relaxing even in this perpetually restless state. His boyfriend was also doing something on his phone, which Octavio wanted to whine _Please Pay More Attention To Me_ because of it, but he did have _some_ sense of pride, despite whatever Ajay said. Deciding to get the other’s attention in a different way, he scooted down to lift up the hem of Taejoon’s loose t-shirt and stuck his head beneath it.

No reaction.

Okay, time to take it a little further.

He scooted back up, head still stuck under Taejoon’s shirt, and started biting kisses into his chest.

“What are you doing?” His boyfriend exhaled, sounding some parts amused and confused.

“Kissing. Duh.”

“Just say you want attention,” the other responded, pulling at his shirt so that Octavio’s head was free. “I would have put my phone down.”

“Yeah, but this way was more fun.”

The make-out session that followed was exactly what Octavio had wanted; wandering hands and short breaths and a _lot_ of biting, but it was cut short by Taejoon suddenly pulling back and saying, “I’ve been thinking.”

Octavio groaned, because _why_ did he always have to do this at the _worst_ of times. “Less thinking, more kissing.”

“About our relationship.”

“Hmm?” 

“Maybe we don’t have to hide it.”

Now Octavio’s interest was piqued. He sat back on his haunches (and on top of Taejoon’s semi, but, heh, that was pure coincidence) and asked, “We don’t?”

“You would be a good cover,” Taejoon said, resting his hands on Octavio. This was supposed to be a serious conversation, but he was having a very hard time focusing on it with the other’s fingers rubbing against his hips, which were among his favorite places to be touched. “If they _do_ suspect me for infiltration, they wouldn’t expect me to form relationships with people. By actively avoiding everyone, I have no alibi, and I just bring suspicion upon myself.”

“Cool. So you’ll use me.”

Taejoon’s face paled. “I didn’t—”

“Nah, it’s fine, cariño.” Octavio slowly started rolling his hips down against the other, watching the flush starting to creep back up his neck. “I don’t mind. This way, I can call you all sorts of embarrassing things in front of the others. And we can harass Elliott by reminding him of how single he is.”

“It is very telling that you immediately use this information to think of how you can annoy people.”

“I’m gifted.” This had been a super bad time to have a serious conversation, he was horny and tired and had a very one-track mind.

Taejoon started thrusting up to match pace with Octavio. _Fucking finally._ “That so?”

“Yup. And I can think of another way you can use me.”

“Please don’t phrase it like that.”

An hour later, they laid side by side, Octavio feeling kind of gross because of their activities but also kind of relieved about the solution they had come to before it. 

This was good; this way, he wouldn’t be so neglected during the season, and it would keep him occupied whenever he was bored. Would he then be considered an accessory to his boyfriend’s crimes? Yeah, but like, he got dick out of it, so who was the _real_ winner here?

“We need condoms,” Taejoon mumbled, sitting up to look at the mess they’d made.

“I’ll steal some from Elliott when we’re on the dropship.”

“We are _not_ having sex on the dropship.”

Octavio sat up too. “What _are_ we allowed to do, then?”

Taejoon looked him up and down, before scrubbing his hand through his messy hair with a sigh. “Kissing is fine. Nothing intense, but I don’t mind it.”

“Can I sit on you?” Octavio asked, and when Taejoon shot him a look, clarified, “Not in that way! Just like, on your lap. I like sitting on people.”

“...I guess.”

“Can I call you names?”

“As long as it is not my real name,” Taejoon stressed. “You usually call me—ah, carinyoh—”

“You need more of an accent on the _-iño._ ”

“ _Cariño_..?”

“There we go!”

"Well, that’s fine. Do not speak my real name, _ever._ Not even when we think we’re alone.”

“Got it.” Octavio smiled. “Can you call me Tavi-yah more?”

Taejoon blinked. “What’s wrong with just Octavio?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it! I just like Tavi-yah.” It was cute and made him feel giddy, but he did not want to admit that. “You’re cute when you speak Korean.”

“...Only in private,” Taejoon sighed, like he was embarrassed.

“So, is that it?”

Taejoon folded his hands together, staring at his own synthetic fingertips for a while. Octavio tried thinking of any other bases they needed to cover, but couldn’t. Finally, Taejoon nodded, silent, before getting to his feet, presumably to clean up. Watching him disappear to grab a towel, the urge to say something took hold of Octavio, and when he came back, he blurted out,

“Hey. I love you.”

Taejoon stared at him, looking like a deer caught in headlights. 

_Oh god was that too soon we haven’t really said those types of things to each other did I rush that why do I always rush things why am I so nervous this is so fucking stupid._

Taejoon ducked his head. “I lo...um...”

His brief burst of nervousness was gone in an instant, and Octavio grinned.

“Ah... _saranghae,_ ” Taejoon finally got out, and Octavio burst into laughter. “Shut up. _I love you_ feels so formal, but I do mean it.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Now c’mere and clean up the mess you made.”

Taejoon rolled his eyes. “It’s _your_ mess too.”

“Yeah, buuuut,” Octavio rolled off the bed, balancing easily on his metal legs. “I’ve got stuff to do. Like set my bike on fire again.”

“ _Octavio._ ”

“Hey, you signed up for this!”

Taejoon sighed before smiling at Octavio—unrestrained, not just a little tilt to his lips but a full-on smile that made his chest feel funny again. “I did.”

It was Octavio’s turn to feel flustered. Yet another foreign sensation he'd have to deal with, but not right now. “Yeah, w-well. Um. I’m gonna go bungee-jump off a building _adios!_ ”

“Tavi-yah!” Taejoon called after him, which made the feeling inside of him double in intensity, and oh god he really had it bad now. He’d said _‘I love you’_ and everything, which, wow. Didn’t know he had it in him.

But things were starting to look up, relationship-wise. There would still be some element of secrecy to all of it, some things they needed to shroud, but they were going to be as open as they safely could, which was a vast improvement from before. And Octavio couldn’t wait to announce to the world that _fuck yeah,_ he had a boyfriend, and he was hot and sexy and exciting and cute and nice and the rest of you _wish_ you could have it as good as he did. 

Because he did. For the first time in his life, he had it real good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> korean tl:  
> Tavi-yah: -ah/-yah is a suffix added onto a person's name depending on if it ends in a vowel or not (Taejoon-ah, Anita-yah). I imagine that Octane heard Crypto speaking Korean and asked for a cute nickname, and Crypto, being awkward, just added a suffix to the nickname he already had LMAO
> 
> ei?- (in disbelief) are you serious/seriously/are you dumb?
> 
> sarangahe- saranghae is the most casual way to say you love someone, crypto probably prefers that to "i love you" initially
> 
> spanish translation:
> 
> lo siento: i'm sorry  
> cariño: love, darling, dear, whatever  
> hermana: sister  
> me excitas mucho: you excite me/turn me on  
> querido: (sarcastically) dear
> 
> thanks for reading!!!

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://seerofmike.tumblr.com)   
>  [twitter](https://twitter.com/tsodmike)


End file.
